From the Beginning
by Neko Kuroban
Summary: It all started when Lilly Kane stole a golf cart. Just another Tuesday.


**Title**: From The Beginning – Two  
**Series**: _Veronica Mars_  
**Characters**: Logan, Lilly, Veronica, Duncan – no overt romance, just friendship.  
**Summary**: A continuation of the  
**Rating**: PG.  
**Feedback**: Please!  
**Dedication**: To my co-author for being more than patient!  
**Disclaimer**: I don't own it.

**From the Beginning**

**Chapter Two**

**Neko Kuroban**

"_Each friend represents a world within us, a world possibly not born until they arrive, and it is only by this meeting that a new world is born."_

"So…"

Veronica felt her mother's piercing gaze on her, and her back stiffened in reflex. The twelve-year-old girl was hardly shy, especially not around her family or friends. She just knew that Mom had been drinking on the sly again – even a glass of white wine when Dad was home could lead to her parents' door-slamming arguments, the kind that echoed discordant in Veronica's bones for days after the initial fight.

"Is the new boy you've been play-" She caught herself just in time. "Hanging out with cute?"

"Mom!" Veronica protested, picking up her barely touched plate. Dinner had pretty much been dead on arrival. Dad had gotten a call and gone rushing out ("to save the day," her mother had bitterly put it); Mom had forgotten to strain the water from the pasta so it turned out terribly soft in places, stuck together in others. When poured from the can (three for ninety-nine cents; Lianne Mars never could resist a bargain), it had been a violent, unnatural shade of crimson and tasted only of aluminum. Afraid to wound her mother's feelings, Veronica had been careful to compliment "the, um, color".

"Well?" Her mother's eyes – so much like her own, Dad always insisted – were almost mischievous as she pried the dish from Veronica's slender fingers. "Put the butter away," she said, cocking her head in the direction of the plastic container on the faux marbled countertop. "And answer my question."

Veronica was saved by the voices coming from the front yard, audible through the windows, open against the oppressive summer heat.

"Dun-can't, I don't think she's home."

"The Le Baron's here."

"That doesn't mean…"

Heading to the front door, Veronica lifted a hand to wave, then halted, her blue-green eyes widening. She stopped in the doorway, her blonde hair made into a halo. The dim hallway leading to the kitchen was like an artery leading to the heart, promising warmth at its core. "What the…" Lilly, she knew, suspected that Veronica was too good and brimming with pretty-in-pink virtues to continue. The blonde felt a small amount of pride at shattering this notion. "Lilly, what the _hell_ is that?"

Lilly caressed the dusty white vinyl of the seat with a loving hand. "An all-purpose, all-terrain, four-passenger vehicle." She emphasized the four. "It's good over both the green and the rough, and it has a maximum speed of three kilometers an hour."

"It's a golf cart." Duncan hastened to amend, offering Veronica a smile in greeting.

"Yeah, I can see that." And she had planned to spend the night keeping an eye on Mom and re-reading _Jane Eyre_…

"So!" Lilly began exuberantly, cutting off the golf cart's engine. "Should we call Logan before we go get him?"

"Um, Lil?" Veronica broached the subject hesitantly, stepping onto the front porch. "You realize that Logan can _walk_ here faster than that golf cart can get to his house, right?"

Lilly climbed out of the vehicle, her tan, toned arms lifting over her head, skimpy halter top rising several inches up her lean abdomen as she stretched languidly. "Why, Veronica, I do declare!" Lilly proclaimed in her finest imitation of a southern accent, and, indeed, one her small, manicured hand fluttered to clutch her necklace, all but an impression of her own mother. "I reject your reality and substitute my own."

"Veronica!" Her mother's voice was clear and strident from the kitchen. "Tell Lilly and her brother to come in!"

"They don't need an invitation." Veronica answered cheekily, though she motioned for her friends to enter, closing the door behind him.

"Hi, Lianne!" Lilly chirped brightly, launching into her perfected "friend's parent" routine. Duncan greeted her a little more calmly, even as his sister kept up a steady stream of chatter.

Killer, Veronica's ancient mutt, lumbered in, giving a weak series of raw-throated barks. Veronica bent almost immediately, burying her fingers up to the knuckle in coarse ebony fur, chiding him affectionately, "Who's a good boy?" After a few moments, she halted when she realized her mom was staring. "What?" She asked, indifferent, and got to her feet to retrieve the small bag of soft, expensive treats they made for dogs losing their teeth. Her mother smirked and winked in Duncan's direction, instantly making Veronica uncomfortable. "_What_?"

"Sorry, 'Ronica," Lilly said, a certain degree of self-satisfaction etched in the lines of her round face, pivoting to regard Veronica with the lithe grace of a long-legged cheetah. "We're all plotting how to lure you into the graveyard at midnight to sacrifice you to Odin, the Greek god."

("Norse," Duncan corrected. "The Greek god's Zeus.")

"Oh!" Veronica breathed, the very same tone she guessed _a pony_ whenever her father divulged that he had a surprise for her. "Do I get to dress up like a fairy princess?"

"You could wear a tunic," Duncan suggested. His mouth twisted in amusement. "With glitter and be a nymph."

"You could get naked." Lilly actually pronounced it 'nekkid' as if to imply that the nudity would be solely for naughty purposes. It was a habit Veronica was sure Lilly had picked up from her older friends, casual friends that she only ever had light, surface relationships with. "Being the sacrifice to the underworld, and all."

"Your mythology is so wrong, it's not even funny."

Lilly tossed her hair, unruffled by her brother's remark. "In that case, my job here is done. Looks like it's time to go galloping off into the sunset."

"Pat on the back, Lone Ranger," Veronica noted absently, returning to help her mother clean the kitchen, a process that would not have taken nearly as long if the sauce hadn't bubbled over and hardened when it was left unattended. "Isn't there a cat in a tree somewhere?" Her tone indicated that there was no love lost between her and any feline.

Lianne waved her arm in protest at Veronicas' aid. "I've got it!"

"What can I do to help?" Lilly offered, which Veronica recognized was only due to her mother's refusal. Somehow, the suggestion drew to her mind the time Lilly had accidentally shattered the fluted goblets the girls had combed the mall searching for (to replace the ones that had been broken, ironically) and by the furrow of her high brow, Mom evidently remembered the occasion as well.

"You go sit on the couch or something." Mom said immediately, plucked golden eyebrows drawing together. "There's a _Friends_ rerun on, I'm sure."

_Does that count as torture under the Geneva Convention?_ Veronica screwed her face in disgust at the mention of the show, a motion Lilly mirrored. _Seriously, I should write to the U. N._

"Want me to get you another glass of wine, Mrs. Mars?" Duncan offered, seemingly having spied the half-empty cup that sat stagnant on the table. It was a plain, chipped mug; Veronica has assumed that it was tea, and Mom had insisted that was so. As always when she contemplated her mother's drinking, an icy knot formed in the pit of her stomach, spreading to her organs as Lianne assented.

Shockingly – though perhaps unsurprisingly – enough, it was Lilly who dragged the warmth in, Lilly who took Veronica's hand in hers and squeezed – hard. The strength was pure Lillian Kane at her finest: dominant and fierce and loving and blazing like a thousand suns in a white-hot desert. Veronica merely

(_wished that Lilly wouldn't turn her into the moon, destined to reflect her partner's light_)

tightened her hold on Lilly's hand, confident in knowing that the older girl would always, always be there, carrying her fiery light and her passions wherever she went.

When Veronica lowered her head to gaze at the linoleum, her hair fell forward to obscure her face. It was easier to drown out the world like this, even as Lilly made conversation with her mother, chatting blithely about how "cool" it was "that you guys have wine in a box", "why don't we have that at my house", and swiftly convinced Lianne to take a bath, with more tact than Veronica ever imagined that she possessed.

"A bubble bath sounds wonderful, Lilly." The despondent note in Lianne's voice and the way the recessed lights made her look older than her years caused a sudden surge of protectiveness in Veronica's heart. "I'll just leave you guys alone, then?" She reached out, as if to muss Veronica's long, white-gold hair, as she passed, only to let her hand fall, limp and lifeless, to her side. "There's a tiara on the cake in the freezer, if you still want to dress like a fairy princess."

Once she had slipped from the room, Duncan's attentions turned to Veronica. "You get a _princess_ cake for your birthday?"

"You didn't?" Veronica closed the dishwasher, fumbling with the buttons, wondering: _how pathetic is it that the only button that really works is the ultra-heavy one?_ Distantly, she heard the start of running water upstairs, white noise she did not bother to register.

"No," Duncan heaved a false sigh of long suffering. "The morning of my birthday, my dad said I should start working on my entrance essay for Harvard, so I can – and I quote – 'support my future my wife and children'. It was like, 'what'?"

"It's true," Lily put in, perching on the edge of the countertop. "I was there."

"Hey, is that fettuccine?" Duncan asked. "That's my favorite."

"No," Veronica answered, moving the plastic-wrapped bowl to the refrigerator. "Just spaghetti."

"Oh, yeah. _That_'s my favorite."

"You don't want any." Her voice brooked no argument. "Trust me."

From her vantage point on the counter, Lilly seized the cordless phone off of the wall-mounted charger. "Can I use your phone?" She asked, already dialing. "It's 709-555…then what?" She nudged Duncan in the thigh with her bare foot, her pink American Eagle flip flops having already been kicked off.

Duncan prodded her knee. "You should use your cell phone," he said as if he believed he was whispering. Curious as to what he thought, Veronica picked up an abandoned red rubber ball and tossed it to Killer, attempting to give the illusion of disinterest. However, her friend did not elucidate; Lilly never gave him a chance. Instead, she merely elbowed him in return, protesting that she was already over her minutes and, "I'm just gonna guess for these last few numbers. I think it's 4040."

"Lilly," Veronica began, but was quickly silenced by her companion's narrowed eyes.

"It's the wrong number," Lilly hissed in a low whisper, handing the phone to Veronica. "Leave a good message, though; Duncan says you've got good prank call fu." She passed her cell phone to her brother and pointed to the door. With something murmured that Veronica didn't quite manage to catch, he complied.

The answering machine was the generic, automated one that came with the phone. As the standard spiel was delivered in an unfaltering monotone, it reminded Veronica of buying a picture frame, only to keep within the smiling photograph of a stranger trapped in a moment of time. The moment the beep sounded, she slipped into a voice that was not hers. "Hi! This is Samantha Russel at the Planned Parenthood clinic. Please tell the resident of this house – they're sure to know who they are; we're sworn to discretion – that the tests came back positive. To discuss your options, please call the National Hopeline Network, toll-free, at 1-800-784-2433." She hung up with a click.

"Are they really sworn to secrecy?" Duncan asked.

"What's that phone number?" Lilly pressed.

Veronica allowed herself to offer a small grin. "The number I left really _was_ for the National Hopeline Network. Their number's 1-800-SUICIDE."

**X X X X X**

"I'm sorry, Lilly," Veronica reiterated for the fourth time in less than twenty minutes, scowling at the television screen.

"What's going on?" A familiar voice wanted to know, and Veronica did not need to turn around to know that Logan Echolls stood there in Pumas and Abercrombie and Fitch shorts, likely having let himself in. She hoped she wasn't blushing; he would catch it, and then Lilly would notice, and…well, things would get awkward. "What's that?" He jerked his head towards the television.

"Hold on." Duncan tried another series of numbers, and the message flashed on the screen once again:

_Incorrect code. _

_Please enter six-digit code to unlock this channel._

_oooooo_

"Her dad put a lock on the TV." Duncan offered by way of explanation, sounding resigned. "Veronica, when did you say your parents' anniversary was?"

As Logan sprawled on the couch between the two girls, Veronica struck something else out in the pocket-sized notebook she held. "We already tried that. We've done my birthday, Mom's birthday, Dad's birthday, Valentine's…"

"Maybe the day they…" Logan began, but Veronica swiftly cut him off.

"No good." She said, fingers tangling in her hair in frustration. She pulled it back into a ponytail, securing it deftly with a pink elastic band that had been around her wrist. "I was pre-mature, and I don't know by how much."

"That would explain why you're short." Duncan put in, and reached around to tweak the end of her ponytail affectionately. Blushing slightly, the girl fumbled for words.

Lilly snapped her compact shut, fresh from replacing her worn-off lip gloss. "We can't even watch the freaking news – not that we'd watch the news, but still… _The Simpsons_ comes on after that."

"Forget about _Buffy_." Duncan said as he tried another number.

"You've still got a crush on Sarah Michelle Gellar?" Lilly demanded, her voice rising a note in surprise. "Even after her nose job?"

"She doesn't _have_ a nose—"

Logan snatched the remote and hit the cancel button. The screen (muted since it had made a high-pitched whine when on the code entry screen) flashed to Weather Underground, where some bland blonde in a power suit was gesturing to a green screen. "Weather in Afghanistan," the boy ad-libbed. "Two thousand degrees and sunny."

"Screw this." Lilly declared, rising from the couch. "Let's take our hard-won – well, stolen – golf cart and go somewhere."

"Because my house officially sucks."

"A_w_," Lilly stretched it out, coating her tone with sugar. "Panda bear." The pet name confused Veronica, but made Duncan snort with laughter. _Inside joke_, she deduced. "Don't be so gloomy!" She lost the candy-sweetened edge, holding out her hand for a high-five. "Represent the ghetto." She looped her other arm around her friend, smiling.

"'Represent the ghetto'… so, what are we, like, officially a gang now?" Duncan asked, adding after a moment, "And can I be leader?"

"Depends," Logan cocked his head to the side. "What's our sign?"

"I know!" Lilly jumped in, eyes dancing with mischief. "V, do you have any of those gel bracelets?"

"I can't have them." Veronica admitted, a faint flush spreading along her high cheekbones and the bridge of her nose, turning her pale skin a pretty, rose-colored hue. "My dad won't let me; he says they're perverted."

"Because they _are_," Logan interjected. "At my old school, green on Thursdays meant you were pretty much desperate."

Duncan offered a wry smile. "Didn't you used to go to _Catholic _school?"

"I did." The younger boy flashed a grin. "Good Shepherd."

"What the crap, Veronica Mars?" Lilly made a face, and then gazed down at her own arms, which were laddered with the thin rubber bracelets. "You can't have little rubber bracelets that go five dollars for fifty at Claire's because your dad thinks innocent young girls are forced to do things when they're snapped."

"Those things are hard as hell to break," Duncan stage-whispered, causing Logan to laugh and Veronica to smile in amusement.

Lilly snorted with laughter and pulled off three yellow bracelets, pressing one into Logan's hand and holding the other two out for her best friend and her brother.

"The yellow ones are supposedly for hugs," Veronica commented, sliding it up so it rested comfortably on her wrist.

"Exactly. That way, if I ever need one, I'll know where to go."

**X X X X X**

Veronica would admit it.

When she went to pack a bag ("for the beach 'cause we'll probably end up there or my house"), she put in two comfortable cotton tank tops, her one-piece bathing suit and a pair of comfortable blue pajama shorts that she had no doubt that Lilly would mock. If the guys were going to be there… she rooted around until in her bottom dresser drawer until she found an old, heavily wrinkled t-shirt – a leftover from Camp Sunshine.

She paused in the upstairs hallway, listening to the sound of Lianne blow-drying her blonde hair, and she made her decision. Footsteps light, she went downstairs and stole into the formal dining room, opening the liquor cabinet. Boxes of inferior blush aside, this was where the hard booze was kept. She almost laughed at herself – what was she expecting? Decanters of cognac? There were just a few medicine-size bottles of drink, the kind that could be emptied over a few days. Or a single long afternoon, she tried not to think, as she slipped her mother's dirty little secret into her backpack.

"Veronica Mars!" Lilly called, stressing every syllable.

The harsh metal teeth of the zipper caught and she swore beneath her breath. "Coming, Lilly!"

**X X X X X**

"What's this?" Veronica asked, reaching for the box that sat between her and Duncan, the phrase _Kane Anti-Drug Foundation: Tips for Teens_ printed in harsh black lettering along the side. Her question was immediately lost in the din from the front seat.

"God, Logan, learn how to drive! Car!"

"I'm not the one who ran into a tree!"

"Kiss my ass!"

"Bend ov-"

"Guys!" Duncan reprimanded sharply.

"Don't go turning into the father figure here," Lilly said, looking down her nose at him as she twisted around in the front seat.

"Don't make me turn this golf cart around." Logan threatened, and though he remained facing forward, Veronica could tell that he had a wicked grin on his face.

**X X X X X**

They all ended up in Logan's guesthouse, sitting on the floor and playing Dreamcast ("Freaking Taiwanese crap!" Lilly had declared as she struggled to figure out the controller; Veronica, who had an aptitude for arcade-style shooting games, refrained from correcting her).

Sometime in the night, they had slipped into routine contentment. Veronica slipped in a mix tape that she had made – it had actually been startlingly difficult to find a tape player in the Echolls' house, and she'd had to settle for plugging the sleek stereo's speakers into her Walkman. The music had played softly, something that almost, but not entirely, resembled Enya, as they watched a two-hour marathon of South Park, sprawling out on a king-sized air mattress. Lilly found a bottle of champagne and managed to open it with Logan's Swiss Army Knife; she added minute splashes to glasses of orange juice. ("Veronica, chill. It's not drinking. My mom has one every Mother's Day, and lets me drink it.") They weren't drunk, Veronica certainly didn't think, but it leant a warm, rosy glow to the atmosphere.

Around midnight, Duncan turned off the television, muting the room except for the languid strains of soft music.

"Thanks," Lilly said faintly, stretching her arms over her head – and cuffing Veronica on the ear in her process, eliciting a pained process. "Sorry." She apologized quickly, flipping onto her back.

"Your feet are freezing," Logan told Veronica, who lay beside him, breath warm.

"Well, what am I _supposed _to do with them?" She muttered, though she did move her right foot from where it had pressed against the warm flesh of his shin.

After several long moments, they settled into a tangled heap of hair and limbs and clothes.

"This is like an orgy," Lilly giggled, with Veronica following suit.

"Did you know that in the state of California, an orgy is only an orgy when more than two people have their socks off?"

Logan's characteristic laughter rose out of the dimness –- the only light came from the hidden lights around the pool and the garden, casting a faint, green-stained glow around the pool house. "Of course our Ronnie would be looking up the law on old-fashioned foursomes."

"I don't mean this in, like, a gay way or anything," Duncan began. (Logan snorted and made a comment that Veronica missed. "Aw, Duncan. You're just too far in the closet to function." Lilly chirruped.) "And it's probably the mimosas talking –- dude, shut up – but I love you guys. They always say that friends are the family you meet along the way, right?"

Veronica felt the smile playing at her lips as she made herself comfortable beneath the eiderdown blanket. "Yeah, same here."

**X X X X X**

Lilly, as often happened, was the first to wake up. Gingerly, she extricated herself from the tangled mess they had ended up in, not an easy task since Veronica's hand was thrown across her abdomen and Logan's left leg had slipped over Veronica's so that their ankles touched. It struck Lilly as somehow poignant.

However, that could wait. She padded to the bathroom, and cleaned up a little, running a comb through her tangled, blonde hair, smirking into the mirror in the first trivial smile of the day.

Her stomach growled, and she frowned. They had ordered a pizza the night before, but she had declined, only eating a slice and leaving the crust.

She should make breakfast, she decided. Logan's parents wouldn't care; they always told her that she could take full advantage of everything. She nudged her brother awake. "Hey, Duncan, wanna make pancakes?"


End file.
